The youngest of thirteen kids...
the smallest of thirteen kids...the smartest of thirteen kids...the meanest of thirteen
kids...made to kneel on combs in a dark closet for punishment...child of a bitter, tired
woman who I never saw smile...spoke only German in the house, the sound of which, even now, is like
biting aluminum foil...the rest of the family were depressed, suicidal, alcoholic. He was frightened by thunder... could draw like a Renaissance illustrator...could sit at the piano and pick out melodies as if the directions were on the keys...said of Monet's "Haystack" paintings..."I can paint better then that shit"...beat my mother and me...fucked anyone he could tackle...and didn't hide it...I found him one day at a 4th of July party screwing my mother's "best friend" on our kitchen sink. Women always found him attractive, at first... My feelings for my father are "complicated"...he was racist, abusive, phobia ridden, manipulative but very clever...he died a drunk, his body ravaged by years of abuse...a tragic waste especially in the way he mistreated my mother. Forgivenss is impossible... indifference is the best I can muster. |
Web Page by Paul Kohl